


What Our Masks Can't Hide

by Marshmellow Bobcat (MellowBobcat)



Series: This Is Us [3]
Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: masks at midnight, reclaiming normal universe fic, team detecting always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25004395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellowBobcat/pseuds/Marshmellow%20Bobcat
Summary: Neptune's newest mayor has a problem and the Scooby Gang is ready for the challenge. Masks, gowns, tuxedos. The drama, the pageantry, the clothes; what more can they ask for?A fluffy dip into the Reclaiming Normal universe.
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Series: This Is Us [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1482185
Comments: 14
Kudos: 56





	What Our Masks Can't Hide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [His_Beautiful_Girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/His_Beautiful_Girl/gifts).



> For His_Beautiful_Girl, who not only gave me this prompt but whose enthusiasm and support of the Reclaiming Normal universe has kept us motivated and inspired a year later. Thank you, my friend.

The most beautiful cover I have ever seen, by the amazing Alina:  
[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/153394136@N06/50059979937/in/dateposted/)

_______ 

The phone trills through the Mars Investigations offices and Logan groans as Veronica pulls her mouth away from his. Her body follows as she stands.

He reaches up, tugging her back to him by her jacket. "Let it go to voicemail," he urges, pressing his lips to hers.

She returns his kiss and triumph flares, then dies as she moves away with one last peck.

"Sorry, Sugar Pop," she says over her shoulder, "gotta pay the bills." She picks up the phone with a way too cheerful, "Mars Investigations."

Heaving a deep sigh, Logan stares dispassionately at the college applications on the table in front of him. They were just getting comfortable and now he is distinctly _un_ comfortable. If he had to spend his Friday afternoon filling out paperwork, at least he had Veronica to ease the pain with a little distraction.

With zero enthusiasm, he chooses an application packet at random and drags a magazine over to write on. Apparently no boyfriend of hers is taking a year off to "find himself." He can still hear her scoffing a month later. He starts scribbling.

"Of course, Mayor Antonio."

Logan pauses, pen poised.

"We at Mars Investigations provide the utmost discretion. For $200 an hour."

If they made that she wouldn't have had to answer the phone. He puts the pen down.

"Not necessary. I'll fill Mr. Mars in this afternoon. He'll be there Saturday night, no problem."

Mr. Mars is in Fresno for the weekend. It's why they were getting so comfortable. Giving up all pretense, Logan tosses the application and magazine on the table and rests his elbows on his knees, leaning closer to hear every word.

"Just leave three...no, four. Four tickets at the door. Yes. Four."

She hangs up and comes back around the desk, straddling his lap in lieu of sitting on the couch.

_Much better._

But damn, damn, his curiosity.

"Mayor Antonio?" He runs his hands up her jeaned thighs, and holds her firmly at the hips, thumbs brushing the soft flesh peeking out from under her shirt.

Snaking her arms around his neck, she kisses his nose.

"Someone's stealing from the Mayor's pet project."

She moves her mouth down, nips his chin, then starts sucking softly at his neck.

"The charity thing?" He manages.

"Yeah, Neglected Neptune." Gripping his hair, she takes a particularly aggressive bite to his neck, and he grunts. "The promised donations aren't matching the accounts. The foundation is family run and he suspects either his wife, his niece, or his brother are skimming off the top."

She tugs lightly on his ear with her teeth and he sucks in a breath, scrambling to think before all the blood leaves his brain.

"And how is my industrious girlfriend helping? Without Keith."

"Oh, this is an easy one for us." She rolls her hips and he holds her still. He's too close to losing the thread.

"Us?"

Leaning back, she huffs.

"There's a masquerade benefit ball for Neglected Neptune. Masks and formal wear required. All we have to do is act wealthy, dumb, and drunk. Chat the targets up, see who tries to con little ole us out of our unearned brother is going to be tricky, according to the mayor he's hard to get to if you're not in his inner circle, but he has a soft spot for blondes. You can be my lookout."

She starts peeling her jacket off, and he shakes off the distraction and studies her.

"Let me get this straight. We get to go to a masked ball?"

Her look is long suffering.

"Yes, Logan, you get to play dress up." She closes her mouth over his. Presumably to shut him up, but it doesn't stop his thoughts from racing.

Oh, they're definitely going shopping. He loves this plan. Not only could they run this scenario in their sleep, but a ball? A _masquerade_ ball. Masks, gowns, tuxedos. The drama, the pageantry, the clothes.

But that's not what has him reeling.

She's including them. No pulling teeth, no lacing up her running shoes, no bravado. From the casual way she presented the strategy, she hadn't even considered not including them. Hadn't considered not including _him_.

"Hey! Get your head in the game, Echolls." She peels off her shirt, tossing it over her shoulder, and he happily complies.

Once word gets out, the whole gang is on a high.

Dick gets so excited that he upgrades the MI surveillance equipment. When he hands the state-of-the-art wireless microphone/earpiece sets to Veronica she simply hands them over to Wallace without comment. _Without. Comment._

Weevil is a little pouty at his assigned role, but Jackie talks him down and immediately drags everyone shopping.

Logan is happy to go along. In no other scenario would he ever be able to convince Veronica to dress up this extravagantly, _and_ let him pay for it. She has to present as a high rolling doner, after all.

She hasn't voiced it out loud, but he knows this case is important to her. It could lead to higher profile—higher _paying—_ jobs. He wants this to work for her. Enough to do a dress rehearsal. Enough to run through the plan a thousand times. Enough to agree to the only part of the plan he doesn't like: Veronica's insistence on driving separately to the venue in order to maintain her 'single gal' facade. And her refusal to wear a mic or an earpiece because, "Where would I put it, Logan?" He lets it go. The dress doesn't leave a lot of room for special equipment, and he'll be close anyway.

An hour after the party starts Logan, Jackie, Dick and Weevil pull into the parking lot where tech support is waiting. By this time their targets should be well lubricated and feeling at ease.

Quietly the group makes their way across the parking lot to Wallace's car which is parked in a secluded corner. At their arrival Wallace and Mac pop out and start unpacking the equipment from the trunk for sound check.

Opening the door to the back seat, Wallace sits with his legs hanging out of the car while he fiddles with the controls on the master unit.

The rest of the group arranges themselves in a loose semi-circle while Mac outfits them, running them through the plan as she attaches wires.

"Logan?" Mac asks, handing him an earpiece.

"I'm stationed at the center of the room, to watch Veronica's backside." He sends Mac a lascivious grin as he pulls his black, hawk-like mask over his face. She smacks his chest then attaches a small mic to the back of his lapel.

"Nice tux," she whispers with a twinkle in her eye as she moves on to Weevil.

"Weevil?"

"This is typecasting," he declares as he shrugs into a waiter's vest.

_Probably still bitchy that the waitstaff doesn't get to wear cool masks._

"Take it up with Ronnie," Dick suggests lounging against the hood of Wallace's car.

"I think it looks good on you." Jackie appreciatively scans the effect of Weevil's vest through her green and gold Venetian mask.

"If you say so, sweetheart," Weevil grumbles.

Logan smothers a smile along with Mac, who simply repeats, "Weevil?" as she hands Jackie a mic. Obviously Mac trusts Jackie more than the rest of them with the equipment.

Weevil slips the earpiece in his ear. "I'm surveillance on the inside, eyes on everything and I back up Jackie's run on the niece."

Jackie gives a thumbs up. Her dress, a waterfall of green satin, sways as she pins a small mic to the inside of the deep V neckline.

"Good?" she asks Mac.

"Great!" Mac chirps.

"Dick," Mac snaps. "Get over here."

Jumping to attention, Dick trots over. Mac makes quick work of getting him set up, removing a flask from his jacket in the process.

"No." She orders, and Logan's surprised she doesn't smack his nose with a newspaper as well. Shoving it in her pocket, she claps for attention. "Let's test it out."

After an endless round of 'can you hear me's', Wallace nods. "All set, have fun kids!"

Inside, they split and Logan strategically arranges himself in the middle of the room, close to the entrance, to wait. He passes the time by identifying the players, matching them to the pictures Veronica had them memorize. The mask is hindering his peripheral vision, but he makes due.

At twelve o'clock is suspect number one: Carolina Antonio, niece to Mayor Antonio. The young woman is in her element, mingling by the stage, her long silver gown sweeping the floor as she moves confidently from guest to guest. She radiates delight, even through the inky black mask she's donned over hair of the same color. Jackie places herself in Carolina's path, then casually makes conversation with another guest.

Logan scans the room for suspect number two… there, five o'clock! The wife, Odette Antonio, nee Williams, is by the bar, placing an empty glass of champagne on the ledge. Dick hands her a full one, holding her arm steady when she wobbles forward to take it. He's forgone a mask—refusing to cover up his "best asset"—and it must work because the woman strikes up a conversation.

Finally Logan lands on the brother, Marco Antonio, reigning at his brother's side from the head table.

He's observing the man's interactions when a whisper of awareness blows across Logan's skin, the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

_Veronica._

Turning to the entrance, he can't help but stare. He'd picked the floaty white gown himself, had seen it on her as recently as this morning's dress rehearsal. And still, his heart speeds up and his mouth goes dry. It's a costume, he reminds himself. All smoke and mirrors. The delicate blooms embroidered on her full skirt are meant to convey innocence, fragility. The plunging neckline and open sides, availability.

A ruse to entice the big bad wolf into taking a bite.

But… maybe it's the lateness of the hour or the fantastical nature of swirling gowns and tinkling crystal, but he just realized the dress almost resembles a wedding gown. He's not even sure if he wants that for himself, for them, but the thought takes hold and makes the air in front of him feel empty, aching for her to fill it.

Veronica glides past him, and winks through her mask, oblivious to the wanderings of his mind. Soon enough the men crowd her. Like walking into a ball alone is just asking for it and she turns up the charm. Probably for the best. They're doing great, but mentioning marriage is practically handing her a gift card to Foot Locker.

_Mine,_ he thinks instinctively. But it's soft, an easy sort of thing, not possessive or jealous. For once in his life there's nothing dark and ugly churning in his gut. He even gets a perverse sort of pleasure in watching her shoot down the plebeians who try to hit on her as she makes her way to loiter by the mayor's table.

A waiter blocks his view, and he absently reaches for a glass of champagne, but the tray is jerked sharply away before he can grasp it.

"ID, Pretty Boy?"

Logan glares back at Weevil.

"Just give me the damn glass, and get back into position."

Weevil hands over the champagne, then looks pointedly behind Logan. "Good luck with that." He strolls away.

"Logan?" The question ends in a giggle that sounds vaguely familiar. "Logan Echolls?"

Spinning around Logan comes mask to mask with Hannah Griffith. She runs a palm down the skirt of her brown— _is that polyester?_ —dress, then holds a curved hand out to him, the back facing his lips.

He's not the only one in fantasy land tonight.

"Hannah." He shoves his free hand in his pocket and toasts his glass toward her in greeting.

Hannah's hand falls away, but her smile pumps up a few notches.

"You recognized me?"

"Yes." Not surprising considering her mask is basically an eye-patch, a simple crisscross of ebony feathers surrounding one eye. The other side of her face is completely bare, save for the over-eager expression.

"That's so sweet."

He gives an absent hum of agreement, shifting his body so he can keep Veronica, now seated at Marco's side, in his sight while he scans the room.

He can't find Dick, which annoys, but sees Weevil hovering with his tray by Carolina. The way the girl is eyeing Weevil tells Logan that his friend might be in trouble. Then he spots Jackie's face and decides the niece is actually the one who should be worried.

_When are those two crazy kids going to get together?_

Wallace's voice sounds in his ear. _**"You okay, man? You've been silent for, like, sixty seconds. Didn't think it was possible."**_

"Funny." _Jackass._

Hannah's grating laugh startles him.

_Is she still here?_

"Thanks, Logan. I think you're funny, too."

"Um. Thank you?"

"Logan," her earnest face shines up at him, "don't sell yourself short."

Dick's snicker fills the comm. _**"Yeah, Logan."**_ He adopts a high pitch. _**"Don't sell yourself short."**_

"Where have you been?" Logan demands, trying to spot him.

"Right here." Hannah steps closer, drawing his attention. She lays a gentle hand on his arm. "I've been right here the whole time."

_Uh-oh._ He takes a definitive step back.

Hannah follows, still attached to his sleeve, and he almost sighs. _A gift and a curse._

" _ **Shut it down, Killer. You're distracting Veronica."**_

A surreptitious glance in Veronica's direction proves Jackie correct. Even though Veronica is engaged in conversation with her target, her body is angled towards Logan.

_Shit._

They're trying to keep a low profile and while Veronica obviously can't hear them, Logan is reasonably sure that if Hannah doesn't remove her hand from Veronica's property, his girl will leap across the table in a single bound, mission be damned.

He examines the still babbling Hannah. She seems prone to hysterics, which really doesn't fit the low profile either.

"Are we almost ready to go?"

Four voices speak at once.

"Well, I have to tell my dad I'm leaving first, silly."

" _ **Almost, Killer."**_

" _ **You need protection from the little girl, Pretty Boy?"**_

" _ **Dude, the wife totally did it."**_

He's starting to get a headache. But Dick's comment catches his attention.

"Dick?"

"Logan!" Hannah gasps. Her eyes, wide as any ingenue, open even further. "It's only our first date."

" _ **Blondie's gonna beat her ass."**_

" _ **Ronnie know about this, man?"**_

Jesus Christ.

"Hannah," Logan says with utter politeness, "shut up." He turns his back on her jaw drop.

Raising his glass to his lips to cover, he speaks into the rim.

"Dick, what do you mean the wife did it?"

"Took a page from Ronnie's book and, uh, got friendly with Mrs. Mayor in the bathroom."

"Veronica doesn't—you know what? Nevermind. Did she confess?"

"Nah, but just before things got interesting she asked me to make my check out to The Neptune Neglect Fund."

Close enough to Neglected Neptune that an inebriated doner wouldn't notice the difference. It's not enough for a court of law, but it's a solid lead for Veronica.

"Good work, man."

Though they're going to have to have another talk about not actually hooking up with anyone for information, especially when he's already gotten said information. Could be time to revisit Spy School.

Logan glances at Veronica, still sitting at the Mayor's table, but glaring daggers behind him.

Suddenly, Veronica relaxes and turns her full attention to the Mayor's brother, just as Jackie hooks her arm through Logan's.

"Hey, Killer, wanna dance?"

"Excuse me, we were just—"

Hannah's mistake wasn't the interruption; that could be ignored. But she punctuated the statement by pulling on Jackie's arm, hard, to get her attention.

Jackie whirls around. "Touch me again and I break it."

Logan spins, too, ready to hold her back if necessary. Not even the mask can hide the anger seeping out of every pore.

" _ **So fucking hot."**_

Logan and Jackie do not address Weevil's muttered statement in their ears, but Logan appreciates the sentiment. He has his own spitfire he's dying to get some alone time with.

Hannah jumps back. "I was just—"

"Begone. Go find your own man to play Desperate Barbie with before someone drops a house on you."

"I thought… You're supposed to be the nice one."

"I am?" Jackie's expression is truly perplexed.

"You're- You're not mean like the other one," Hanna gestures to Veronica, who is paying them no mind now that Jackie is there. "You say hi in the halls and smile back at me and stuff."

"Do I?" Jackie's voice is perfectly mild, as pleasant as a spring breeze. "My mistake."

Hannah's chin trembles and Jackie sighs. "Maybe I am the nice one. And because I'm so nice, I'm going to give you a little advice."

Hannah tosses her hair, and crosses her arms at Jackie expectantly.

"Cut your losses. Move on. You can't handle Logan Echolls. You're not even in the same universe."

Logan ducks his head, scratching at the back of his neck, watching through his lashes. He knows better than to interrupt, and he can't trust his own voice right now anyway. Hannah does not have that problem.

"I may not have money but—"

"Oh, it's not about the money. You couldn't hold your own with him. Plus, his family doesn't like you," Jackie confesses in a stage whisper.

"But his parents are dea—" Hannah flashes him a guilty look, then fixes back on Jackie.

"Oh, I'm not talking about them." Jackie laughs, a tinkling laugh that would have reminded him of Lilly if it weren't for the pure love behind it. "We're Logan's family."

Sensing movement, Logan peeks around to see the Scooby Gang has once again arranged themselves in a semicircle. Around him.

Veronica appears next to him, looping her arm around his waist. She doesn't spare Hannah a glance.

Logan swallows the lump in his throat and puts his arm around Veronica's shoulder.

"Hey, Baby."

Veronica searches his gaze and for all that he's wearing a mask he feels laid bare.

Kissing her temple in reassurance he whispers in her ear, "I'll fill you in later." Logan hands a lingering Hannah his empty glass without a glance. "Right now, let's blend."

The gang has already closed ranks, making their way to the dance floor with talk of after-parties and enormous hot tubs and Logan steers Veronica after them.

His patient girlfriend pauses before they reach the dance floor. "Anything I should know about?"

"Oh, you know. Duplicitous wives, clueless waifs, family drama. Just another normal day in Neptune."

At her sharp look he laughs. "I'll let Dick tell you. For now, it's almost midnight, the ball will be over soon." Drawing her into his arms he pulls her body against his. "Dance with me."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Covers (Marshmellow Bobcat stories)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25006234) by [VeronicaMarsFanArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeronicaMarsFanArt/pseuds/VeronicaMarsFanArt)




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